The Outside Looking In
by Erin Kaye Hashet
Summary: As seen by people not directly involved, a serious accident that affects the Gilmores and their friends and loved ones and causes everyone to re-examine their priorities.


Title: The Outside Looking In

Author: Erin Kaye Hashet

Rating: PG

Feedback: EKHashet@hotmail.com

Spoilers: Through "The Reigning Lorelai"

Summary: A major crisis that affects the Gilmores and their friends and loved ones and causes everyone to re-examine their priorities, as seen by people who are not directly involved.

Disclaimer: My name is not Amy Sherman-Palladino.

Author's Note: Okay, first I want to clarify two things:

1. I don't know when Yale has their spring break, but mine is insanely early- the first week of March. Therefore, it may _sound_ weird to go skiing over spring break, but it's not uncommon.

2. Contrary to what you may see on TV, cell phones are _not_ allowed in hospitals. When my dad and I went to visit my grandmother in the hospital, my dad got a cell phone call when he was literally about two steps inside the hospital, and they made him take it outside.

Also, this is a story I wrote because I thought it would be interesting, but I didn't want to make it too sappy. So I wrote about a major crisis, viewed indirectly. Hope you like it.

The Outside Looking In

by Erin Kaye Hashet

**Janet Barnes**

**Age 19**

God, I hate Paris. How did I get stuck with her as a roommate? Every college freshman worries about who they're going to get for a roommate, but Paris is ten times worse than anything I ever imagined. Well, at least she's not my direct roommate. Tana's a little weird, but harmless, and Rory's nice. She must be some kind of saint for putting up with Paris. But I guess they were friends in high school. Or kind of friends, anyway. Rory said they kind of had a love-hate relationship, which makes sense. 

Thank God for spring break! A whole week with no Paris! I can spend time with my boyfriend without Paris complaining about him. Just because _she's _too bitchy to keep a boyfriend doesn't mean I have to suffer because of it. I don't know what's up with that. Apparently she dumped _him_…that doesn't make any sense. What guy would willingly put up with Paris? Anyway, I guess she was supposed to go skiing with him in Vermont this week, because apparently Princeton has the same break as us. But since they broke up, she had an extra spot open, so she asked Rory if she wanted to go. And Rory said yes, even though she'd never skied before and would need to take lessons. Poor girl, a whole week alone with Paris. But I guess Paris couldn't find anyone else willing to go with her. Is it any wonder?  
  


It's March now. That means only two months left of living with Paris. Two months! Next year I can move in with my teammates and finally experience college the way I want to!

**Fred Marshall**

**Age 37**

I've always hated this particular trail. It's a black diamond trail at the beginning, but it flows into a beginner trail that starts at the top of a much easier lift. Experienced skiers have their momentum going, and then they have to slow down to avoid crashing into people who are just learning. It's a disaster. 

As I'm skiing backwards down that trail, demonstrating a snowplow for the ski schoolers, I see two college-aged girls get off the beginner lift. "Come _on_, Rory!" one of them yells impatiently as she zips down the hill. 

"I'm _trying_, Paris!" the second girl says back, sounding frustrated. She's a cute girl with short, brown hair, and she's doing a snowplow and tentatively dragging her poles along the ground. 

It happens so quickly. Someone zooms down the black diamond trail so fast that I only see him out of the corner of my eye. He knocks right into the girl doing the snowplow, who falls forward before she can even shout. Her skis fall off, and she slides down the hill uncontrollably, striking her head hard on a tree. 

Horrified, I turn around and ski down to her, then take off my skis and examine her. She's lying motionless on the ground, blood streaming from a wound in her head. I pick up my walkie-talkie. "Get someone up here! We have an emergency!"

**Wade Smithers**

**Age 34**

My uncle Harold had told me that Stars Hollow had a nice, friendly population, and that's what made it good for tourists. After spending the day there with my wife Marion, I have to say that I agree with him. At least I do until I visit the diner. 

"Are you sure this is a diner?" I ask Marion. "It says 'William's Hardware.'"

She peers in the window. "Looks like a diner to me."

"Well, I guess this is it, then."

It's an off hour— four o'clock—but we haven't had lunch and we're hungry. There's only one other person in the diner, a bearded, middle-aged man wearing a cardigan. Behind the counter is a scruffy, frowning man with a flannel shirt and a backwards baseball cap. 

"This is the diner?" I ask him. "Not the hardware store?"

"Luke, I _told_ you to do something about that sign!" the bearded man scolds him. "It confused these poor tourists. Do you want people to— "

"The sign stays up, Taylor!" he interrupts sharply. Then he exhales. "What'll it be?"

"Bacon cheeseburger and fries for me, and…" I glance at Marion, who is still studying the menu. 

"Same," she murmurs without looking up.

"Two bacon cheeseburgers and fries coming up." He turns around and goes into the kitchen. 

A phone rings somewhere in the diner. Someone in the kitchen picks it up and yells, "Hey, Luke, phone call!"

"Tell them I'll call them back!" Luke yells from the kitchen. 

"Um, it's Lorelai. She said it can't wait."

"God damn it!" Luke comes storming out of the kitchen to pick up the phone. "Hello?... What?...Drive you where?...What do you mean you can't tell me? Where the hell do you want me to take you?...You're too _upset_? Lorelai, what the hell is going on?...Lorelai, believe me, I'll be more upset if I'm worrying all the way there. Please just tell me now…WHAT?!" Luke's face changes. "Why? Is she all right?....What do you mean they won't tell you?…Hospital policy my ass!"

"Luke!" Taylor warns sharply. "Watch your language in front of the tourists!"

Luke makes a slashing motion and gives Taylor a death look. "Yes. Yes, of course. I'll be right there. Don't worry about it." He hangs up the phone. "This diner is closed."

Taylor's mouth drops open. "Luke, you can't just close like that! Look at these poor people waiting…"  
  
Luke is already on his way out the door. He turns around. "I _said_, this diner is _closed_!"

**Katia**** Hillmann**

**Age 23**

I thought being a maid would be easy money. A little housekeeping, some cooking— things I can do with no problem. It'll pay the rent, at least. But I didn't know I'd be working for Emily Gilmore. 

_Katia__, you forgot the croutons. Katia, you missed a spot dusting. Katia, you forgot to close the drapes. Katia, you make too much noise when you walk. _Nothing I do is _ever_ right. She expects so much of me, and she can't even get my name straight! Half the time I'm Gerta or Heidi or Estela or Leilani. I feel so bad for their poor daughter, who comes over on Fridays. I hear she ran away from home when she was sixteen. Can't say I blame her.

I hear the Gilmores fire their maids at the drop of a hat. I have a hard time believing some of them didn't quit. Or commit suicide. 

I'm upstairs dusting, Emily's voice ringing in my ears ("Dust _around _the clock, Katia, don't pick it up. It's the _jewelry box_ you want to pick up. Is that so hard to remember?") when I hear the phone ring downstairs. 

"Hello?" Emily says. "Well, hello, Lorelai, to what do I owe this great honor?...What do you mean?...What's wrong?...What do you mean, Rory's in the hospital?" Her voice has risen. "A _head injury_? Is it serious?...Oh, my God! How did this happen?..._Skiing? _Rory doesn't know how to ski!...Don't use that tone of voice with me, Lorelai, this is serious!...Yes, of course we will! What hospital is she in?" Emily's voice has started to waver. "We'll be there…we'll be there." She hangs up. There is a long silence. Then she calls out, "Richard? Richard, come here."

I hear his voice in the same room as her. "Emily? Emily, what's wrong? You've been crying."

"Rory's in the hospital."

"What?"

"She's in Vermont, in the hospital with a head injury. Some _idiot_ slammed into her while she was skiing!" There are tears at the edge of the venom in her voice. 

"A _head injury_? Is she all right?"

"They don't know…they don't know. We have to go, Richard." 

Before they leave, Emily yells upstairs, "Heidi, take the day off!"

**Wendy Germansky**

**Age 28**

As a nurse, you're supposed to keep your professional distance, but I really feel for these people who've been sitting in the waiting room. The woman hasn't cried yet— I think she's numb. Her daughter was in a skiing accident this morning, and it doesn't look good. The girl will need surgeries, and it could go either way. I thought the man was the father, but apparently he's not, because they're still waiting for him to show up. The man who's already here hasn't said much. He just has his arm around the woman, rubbing his hand gently up and down her back. His face is toward the floor. 

There was another girl here earlier. She was the friend, I think, who the girl was skiing with when she got hurt. She was in here crying earlier, and telling the mother, "I'm so sorry, Lorelai, this is all my fault. I should have waited for her. I should have made her rent a helmet. She wanted to, and I told her she didn't need one, it would be a waste of money. If only I hadn't asked her to—"

"Paris?" the mother—Lorelai?—had interjected sharply. "Go away."

Another man enters. "Lorelai?"

"Christopher." Lorelai gets up and wraps her arms around him. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here."

"How is Rory? Is she all right?"

Lorelai's shoulders slump. "She has a skull fracture, and…some less serious head injuries, too, they think."

"Oh, my God! Will she be all right? Can I see her?"

"They don't know…she's in surgery…" And the tears finally start. It's a matter of seconds before she's kneeling down on the floor, crying hysterically.

I want to say something so badly. Screw professional distance. But I can't think of a single thing that would help.

**Angie Martineau**

**Age 42**

My sister just had a baby boy. Terrence Matthew. Terrence after our late father. He doesn't look a thing like him, though. He looks more like Aunt Berta. Same insanely high forehead and tiny, tiny ears. Of course I told Christine he was the cutest little thing ever, but inwardly I was shuddering. He's going to have trouble finding a prom date when he's older. 

They don't let you use cell phones in hospitals. Idiots. You'd think in this day and age they'd have figured out some way to let you do that. But they haven't, so I'm stuck using the payphone at the end of a dark hallway to call my sister Gina to tell her, "Gee, wouldn't it be nice if you had the courtesy to come visit your very first nephew? Especially seeing as you only live ten minutes away!"

I've just gotten myself into the booth and have picked up the receiver when all of a sudden a woman comes charging in and grabs the receiver out of my hand. "I need this now."

My jaw drops. "Ex_cuse_ me?! I believe I was here first!"

"Look, lady, my daughter may be _dying_! There are people I have to call!" The tears in this woman's eyes are genuine, and I'm taken aback. I step outside and let her make her call. 

"Jason!" I hear her say. "Hi…You've heard?...No, there's been no change. How did you…My father told you…Yes, my mother, too. They came up to Vermont as soon as they could…What?...Business? You've got _business_ to take care of?...Yes, I realize my father's here! I just told _you _that!...Fine. See you later." She hangs up.

**John Malcolmson**

**Age 52**

I've finished the surgery, but the hard part is far from over. Now I have to face the relatives. 

The mother is young for a woman with a nineteen-year-old daughter. She's tight-lipped and anxious, and I ache for her. I have a daughter the same age. I can't imagine how I would feel in her shoes. And she's a single mother, and this is her only child. 

"Ms. Gilmore?" 

She stands up. "How is she? Is it bad?"

"Lorelai is stabilized but still unconscious, Ms. Gilmore. Right now she's in recovery, and we'll probably need to perform another surgery tomorrow."

"Is she going to die?"

I really don't know the answer to that, but I can't bring myself to tell her. "I can't promise anything, Ms. Gilmore, but at the moment I'd say Lorelai's prognosis is fairly good."

"Fairly good," she repeats. "_Fairly _good?! Does that mean, oh, she'll live another day or two just fine? Or will she live forever but never be able to think again? My father just lost his mother and there is _no way_ we are going through that again!" 

"Ms. Gilmore, I assure you…"  
  
"What? You assure me _what_? Can you assure me that my daughter will be able to live the life she planned? She's not just some ordinary kid! Is that what you think, that she's just some punk who ran into a tree skiing? My daughter is a freshman at Yale! She was valedictorian of a high school where it's a privilege just to get in! She writes for the newspaper because she wants to be a foreign correspondent someday! She wants to travel and see the world…can you assure me that she'll be able to do all that?"

I'm silent for a moment. I see hysterical relatives all the time, but for some reason this one is affecting me like none other. "I'll do my best, Ms. Gilmore."

"And her name is Rory," she continues as if she hasn't heard me. "_Rory_! No one calls her Lorelai. Her name is _Rory_!"

**Ray Kingston**

**Age 54**

My niece is fine, recovering nicely from appendicitis. They'll probably let her go home today or tomorrow. I should be getting home now myself, but I figure before I do I'll get myself something to eat.

I'm sitting in the hospital cafeteria with a bowl of chili when I see them come in, a man and a woman. "Lorelai, you need to eat something," the man is telling her. "You'll faint or something."

"Luke, _not now_," she says forcefully. 

"Drink some coffee or something at least. God, I can't believe I'm telling you to drink coffee."

"Fine." 

They finally sit down at the table behind mine. I can't help but overhear their conversation. 

"I thought my parents were going to kill me," she says, staring at her coffee. "I thought they were going to tell me I was so irresponsible and I shouldn't have let her go skiing when she hadn't been before and all that. But they didn't. They said…nothing, Luke. My mother just took my hand and looked like she was about to cry."

"Maybe she knows how she would feel if she was in your position now."

Lorelai continues, still looking down. "And…all I can think is that it would be so much better if she _was_ mad at me. Because then I'd be mad at her, and then I'd have something to take my mind off the fact that my daughter might die." She begins to cry. 

Luke reaches for her hand. "Rory is _not _going to die, Lorelai."  
  


"You don't know that."  
  


"I know _Rory_. And I know she has too much to live for to die right now." There is a pause while they think about this. "Anyway, the doctor said she came through the surgery fine. That's a good sign."  
  


"Yes." She stirs her coffee absently. "But what if she has brain damage, Luke? She was always so smart. She would hate that!"

"Don't think about that, Lorelai. Don't think about it."  
  
Another long silence. I'm done with my chili now, but I'm dying to hear the end of this conversation. These people have intrigued me. I pretend to be looking for something in my wallet. Then I hear, "Well, if I can't be mad at my parents, I guess I can at least be mad at Jason." She pauses for a second. "Did I tell you that, Luke? I have a boyfriend. I've been dating my father's business partner."

A pregnant pause. "No…no, I definitely would have remembered that."

"Yeah. Well, he wouldn't come to my grandmother's funeral. He said funerals depress him. And, well, I could let that one go. I mean, it was his partner's mother, but he didn't know my grandmother at all. But this…this is different. He _knows_ Rory, and he won't come up here to see her. He says he has 'business' to take care of while my father's here." Her voice is bitter. 

"Son of a bitch!" Luke sounds pissed. 

"I'm sorry I never told you about him, Luke," Lorelai says softly. "Here I am yelling at you because you didn't tell me about the house you bought with Nicole, and I didn't even tell you I was dating Jason."

"Don't worry about it."

"I think we're too much alike," she continues as if she hadn't heard. "Me and Jason. We're both selfish."

"Oh, that is not true, Lorelai, and you know it."

Lorelai pushes a strand of hair out of her face and abruptly changes the subject. "Did you see where Paris went? I need to talk to her." She exhales. "God, I was so rude to her. The poor girl feels bad enough." Her shoulders slump. "I did the same thing to you after Jess and Rory got into that accident a couple of years ago. Don't tell me I'm not selfish."

**Lindsay Forrester**

**Age 19**

I don't know where Dean is. I'm starting to get really nervous. He wasn't at the construction site today when my mom and I came to bring him food. Neither was Lorelai. Something is not right here. And I have a feeling it might have to do with Rory Gilmore.

Rory Gilmore. Aren't ex-girlfriends just supposed to fade away into the background when you get married? Especially when she just up and left him for another guy, a guy who ran off on her without even saying goodbye? Is it normal for some tiny little thing every day to remind a guy of his ex-girlfriend when he's happily married? If he…_is_ happily married, I guess. 

Part of me always tries to tell myself that Dean proposed to _me_, that he may have loved Rory but he chose to marry _me_. But…why did he have to take that job working for Rory's mom? Why did he have to invite Rory to the wedding, even though she didn't come? 

It's getting late. The dinner my mom made is getting cold. I've tried calling him, but I haven't gotten an answer. 

The door opens, and Dean comes in. I stand up. "Dean! Where have you been? I was getting worried!" I go over and give him a hug. "I called your cell a million times— you didn't answer."

Dean isn't looking at me. He's staring off into the distance, distracted. "They don't let you use cell phones in the hospital."

My jaw drops. "_Hospital_? Dean, are you hurt? Why were you in the hospital? Dean, answer me!"

He walks over to the table and sits at a chair. "Rory." It's a long time before he speaks again. "I got to work today and Lorelai wasn't there, and Tom said she was in Vermont because Rory had been in an accident. She was skiing and she hit her head on a tree." 

That wasn't what I was expecting. There's a stunned silence before I ask, "Is she okay?"

"It happened on Saturday," Dean says as if he hasn't heard me. "Two days ago, and she's still unconscious." Tears begin to form in his eyes. "She's gone through a couple of surgeries okay, but…they said she's still not out of the woods." He jams his fists into his eyes. "I had to go see her…up in Vermont…she's not moving…it's so scary." Then he buries his face in his hands. 

I go over to Dean and put my arm around him, and rub his back. I don't know what to say. I don't even know what to think. It's so scary to think of something like this happening to someone I _know_. Like Rory Gilmore. We used to be really good friends, back in elementary school. I remember I loved coming over to her house because I thought her mom was really cool. How could she be in the hospital like this? 

I look at Dean and for once, it doesn't even occur to me to be jealous. For the moment, I don't care if he _would _rather be with Rory than with me. No one should ever have to feel the pain he's feeling now. 

**Eric Yates**

**Age 32**

God, I hate hospitals. Aside from the fact that they just gave my grandmother the wrong painkillers when she went in for her surgery and made her suffer needlessly, they don't let you use cell phones _and_ they don't let you smoke. So I'm forced to go outside in the cold to light up and relieve some of my frustration. 

As I'm puffing on my first cigarette, I notice a kid standing near me, also pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He's about nineteen or twenty, a dark-haired, sullen-looking kid. He fumbles around in his pockets. "God damn it!" he explodes. He starts to storm back into the hospital until I call to him, "Need a lighter?"

He turns around, and I toss him mine, which he catches. "Thanks," he mutters, walking closer to me, and lights up. 

We stand in silence for a few moments. Then, because I'm aching to talk to someone who won't frustrate me, and it seems like this kid and I might be in the same boat, I say, "Don't you hate hospitals?" 

The kid gives me a dirty look and keeps puffing away. 

"They just completely messed things up with my grandmother," I say. "Gave her the wrong painkillers." I light another cigarette. "They mess up on the person you're here for?"  
  


He throws me another look, but it's a bit softer this time. "Well, the doctors didn't," he says bitterly. "She's doing better now. It's her mother who wouldn't let me see her."

I nod sympathetically. "Girlfriend?"

"Ex." He crushes his cigarette beneath his shoe. "Ex-girlfriend."

"Ah."

"Called my uncle the other day, about something I'd forgotten." He lights up another cigarette. "And he starts yelling at me about how he doesn't have time for this, Rory's in the hospital and he has a diner to run on top of it. And when I try to ask him what he meant by that, he tells me never mind, don't you even think about going near Rory now." He sighs. "So I drive up all the way here from _New York_, and I write her this really long letter explaining everything, and as soon as I get here her mother starts screaming at me, like what are you doing here, she just woke up yesterday, the last thing she needs is you to think about. So I ask her if she would just please give Rory the letter when she's feeling up to it. And she took it." He exhales a long trail of smoke. "She won't give it to her, though."

"Why not?"  
  


"She never liked me," the kid says, staring off into the distance.

"What did the note say?" I ask, curious.

"That I love her," he says without looking at me, "and I didn't mean to hurt her, and I'm sorry. And things won't work out with us, but I hope…I hope she finds someone new." He throws me my lighter so suddenly that I miss it, and it goes clattering to the ground. "Thanks for that," he says, and turns and walks away.

**Brian Jones**

**Age 20**

Right now, we have to sit on the floor if we want to see our TV. We need a TV stand if we want to be able to sit on the couch and watch it. Originally Lane said she'd do it, since she was more excited about having a TV than me and Zach— I guess her mom wouldn't let her watch TV before. But last week Rory—Lane's friend whose garage we use to practice—got into an accident, and Lane's been too upset to concentrate. I would be, too. Zach and Gil and I sent a card to Rory's house and everything, but Lane's been visiting the hospital a lot. She has her boss, that Luke guy, drive her there sometimes, or she has Zach or Gil do it. Anyway, she hasn't been around lately, and I'm sick of sitting on the floor, so here I am, putting the TV stand together. 

I've made a bit of progress but am getting stuck on one thing and re-reading the instruction manual for the millionth time when the apartment door opens. It's Lane, back from Vermont, with a blonde girl I've never seen before. For once, they look happy. 

"How's Rory?" I ask. 

"Much better," the blonde girl says, smiling. "She came out of the coma yesterday, and she's awake and talking now. She doesn't have any permanent brain damage, which is amazing! The wonders of medical technology.  And they think she'll be home tomorrow or the next day."

"Oh, great!"

"Oh!" says Lane, suddenly remembering. "Brian, this is Paris. Paris, this is my roommate Brian."  
  


"Nice to meet you," I tell her. 

"Likewise," says Paris, and she and Lane go into Lane's room. They leave the door open a crack, and I can hear their conversation as I continue to put the TV stand together. 

"I'm so glad," Paris says quietly. "I don't think I could ever have forgiven myself if Rory died. It was all my fault."

"Paris, no, it wasn't!" says Lane. "Rory doesn't blame you. You shouldn't blame yourself. It was an _accident_."  Lane is quiet for a second. "Rory is my best friend, and even if she _had_ died, I would never have blamed you."

"She's my best friend, too," says Paris. "And I was so mean to her." There's a long silence. "I was such a bitch to her when I first met her. And she's always been nice to me…I mean, I wouldn't have been student body president without her…she came to visit me after I got rejected from Harvard…and she was the only one nice enough to put up with me as a roommate." Paris lets out a short laugh. "Hell, she was the only one nice enough to come skiing with me last weekend. And she gets repaid by almost getting killed."

"But she's _fine_," says Lane. "And Paris, if she blamed you for anything, she wouldn't have talked to you today in the hospital."

"I should have told her I'm sorry for everything," Paris says absently. 

"Well," says Lane, "what's stopping you?" There's a long silence, and then Lane continues. "You know, my mom called me yesterday," she says. "We hadn't talked since before I moved in here. But you know what she said?" She doesn't wait for Paris to answer. "She said she'd heard from people in town about Rory's accident, and she asked me how Rory was doing. Then she asked me how I was doing. And she said, 'It's good to hear you again, Lane.'" Lane says that last part in her mother's accent. "And she asked me to come by for lunch so we can talk some more." 

"Wow," says Paris softly. She pauses, then says, "I wish I could talk to my parents. Sometimes I think weeks go by when they don't think about me at all. When I was growing up, I had my nanny to talk to, but she left me, so now I don't have anyone at all." She sighs. "I wish I could talk to my parents about stuff. Not even the way Rory and Lorelai talk—even just have a conversation with them like you're going to have with your mom."

Another pause. Then Lane repeats, quietly, "What's stopping you?"

**Marion**** Smithers**

**Age 33**

My husband and I enjoyed our visit to Stars Hollow last weekend. But after we told his Uncle Harold about what had happened at Luke's Diner, he told us we had to go back and experience Luke's for real. So the following weekend, we headed back. 

Luke looks like he's in a much better mood this week. "Weren't you guys just in here last week?" he asks. 

"Yes, we were," says Wade. "I'll have what I was going to have—bacon cheeseburger and fries." 

"Same here," I echo.

"Two bacon cheeseburgers with fries coming up!"

Just as Luke sends our orders to the kitchen, a woman with long, dark hair walks in. "Lorelai!" says Luke, and I remember that this is the woman he was on the phone with last week. 

"Luke!" She slides into a seat at the counter, facing him. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Depends on what it is." 

"How about Chris and I just brought Rory home?"

Luke's face lights up. "How's she doing?"  
  


"She's doing great. But I don't want anyone to know. We had to sneak her in when we knew Babette and Morey were asleep, and Chris had to park somewhere else. We got flowers and cards from everyone in the entire town, twice." Lorelai smiles. "I know they're all going to want to come see her—my parents, Lane, Sookie, Jackson, Patty, Taylor, Kirk, Babette, Morey, Michel, all them, I think they've got a parade planned or something—but I want to wait until she's had time to settle in before we do visits. Right now it's just Christopher and Rory and I." 

"What about the boyfriend?" Luke asks, his expression darkening. 

Lorelai lets out a short laugh through her nose. "What boyfriend?" She pauses a bit before she continues. "You're welcome to come over now, of course. Unless you have plans with Nicole or something."

"No, Nicole's back at her place."

"Her place," Lorelai echoes.

"That's what I said."

"Well." Lorelai pauses for a bit. Then she says, "Well, guess who came to visit Rory the other day."

Luke thinks for a second. Then his face grows angry. "Don't tell me it was Jess!" 

"Luke, calm down." 

"I'll kill him! I told him not to see her!"

"Luke, it's all right. I told him she wasn't up to seeing him, and he gave me this note to give to her. And…well, I know I shouldn't have, but I read it first."  
  


"And?"

"And…it was nicer than anything I've ever heard him say."

Luke pauses. "Really." 

"So I gave it to Rory when I thought she was ready, and it made her happy. She said she thinks now she finally has closure with the whole Jess situation."

"Well, good. That's good to hear." 

"Dean came by, too."

"_Really_." Luke sounds very interested now. 

"Yeah. He came when she was still unconscious. I think he might have a few things to say to her himself."  
  


"I'm sure he does." 

"And Rory and Christopher are getting to spend some time together, finally. It's too bad it took something like this, but I guess he's been busy with the baby and everything, and planning his wedding…" Lorelai shrugs. "Sherry and Georgia are coming down tomorrow. It'll be the first time she's seen them since Gigi was born."

"When will she be able to go back to school?"

"Well, the doctor wants her to stay at home for at least another week. She still doesn't really have her strength up. But she's dying to get back, so I think being at school again will actually help her." Lorelai checks her watch. "So, are you gonna come over to my house?"

Luke smiles at her. "Just as soon as I serve these burgers."  
  


"Great." Lorelai smiles back at him and turns to leave. "See you then." 

"Okay," Luke calls. Then he turns around and yells into the kitchen, "Hey, everything's on the house for the rest of the day. I'm outta here."

After we get our food, Luke does indeed leave. Wade shakes his head in disbelief. "Last week he closes the diner out of nowhere, this week we get our food on the house. Boy, things work weird around here."

But I just smile to myself. I can't say this town isn't weird, but after spending just two weekends here I think it's clear that there's a lot of love in this place. At least that's how it appears from the outside looking in. 

--End

Well, I think it's safe to say I've fallen off the fanfic wagon! But now I'm starting to remember why I was _on_ it. I just spent two nights writing this story nonstop when I should have been doing homework and studying. Oh, well. Please review, for better or worse, because it will make me feel better to know that people are actually _reading_ this thing I spent valuable time writing. 

Also, shout-out to people at the Television Without Pity boards, who got me interested in Gilmore Girls fanfic and recommended some great ones. I never used to read GG fic, but I guess there's no time like the present to start. J


End file.
